


Childhood Fears

by Lyssandra_Med



Series: One-Shot [19]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Bellamione Cult Ilvermorny Cup, Discord: Bellamione Cult, F/F, monster under the bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 11:20:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20638316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyssandra_Med/pseuds/Lyssandra_Med
Summary: “...Why?” Hermione wasn’t sure if hallucinations were supposed to be as interactive as this; if something had gone seriously wrong in her mind, like she suspected, it could be possible. But this all felt… too real.“Pet, much as I’m loving our little reunion, I asked you a question that I expect an answer to. Or have you gone deaf in the years since we last spoke?”





	Childhood Fears

**Author's Note:**

> Minimal Editing, might continue.  
(Portion of paragraphs were duplicated/leftover, Fixed now)

With a minute sigh and crinkling of long stiffened synthetic fabric, Hermione sank down upon the remaining pillows and stained comforter that had been laying across the threadbare mattress for over fifteen years. The weight of the years long past rushed at once through her head and settled deep into her chest, a weight that shifted and sunk until she felt it was falling to the floor. For fifteen years she’d lived anywhere else but here; first in her father’s apartment nearly five hours north, then a shifty boarding school for four, then finally college and the rundown apartment she’d managed to just barely squeeze herself into. 

If she gave it enough thought, more than she truly believed was warranted at the least, she could remember the exact feelings that had coursed through her body when she’d been younger and just finishing up her schoolwork for the day before relaxing in quietude and peace. That sense of calmness had lasted for as long as it had taken her parents to come home, for the first sound of a key in the lock to float its way up the short staircase and through her open door. 

Those days had all been simpler excerpts from her rather downtrodden life, moments of serenity amid the constant shuffle and disappointment that had come to dominate her rather harshly. They might have still been complicated, navigating the social waters of pre-teen life had never been her strong suit, but in this room, in this moment, she felt nothing but an everlasting desire to return. To restart.

School had been so easy and so simple.

Her family had been loving paragons of normalcy and love.

Herself, a future warm and bright as it stretched out before her.

And now it was all gone, scattered to the winds like so many leaves in Autumn.

\---

Hermione turned into wakefulness with eyes flashing open and lungs desperately gulping in stale air and dust. The room surrounding her shuddering body was still and quiet, darkness pervading every corner that it could touch with only the slightest bit of restraint by the thin line of silver coming in through a crack in the blinds. Up above, on the popcorn ceiling where she’d painstakingly stood on a stool atop her bed to scrape away the hardened vermiculite, lay three or four little fading green lights being emitted from ages old glow-in-the-dark stars and planets. It was quiet.

_ ‘One would say _ ** _too_ ** _ quiet,’ _ she mused inside her head.

It was, however tropey, the truth. It was too quiet to have woken her. If she’d been her younger self she would have slept straight through till morning. _ Something _ must have made a noise. _ Something _ had to have happened, because Hermione Jean Granger, only daughter to entirely rational parents, didn’t wake to nightmares or imagined monsters. A creaking, moving, speaking _ thing _ must have done it.

_ -tch _

There! Her heart began thudding maddeningly against her ribcage, she’d heard _ it, _ she was sure she had, and in a flurry of movement she was hanging off the side of the too small twin bed with her hair pooling against the hardwood and eyes peering into the darkness dwelling beneath her mattress. Not that this new and improved position, perfect for stuffing up her sinuses and swelling her cheeks with blood, afforded her any further insight to the matter of a random noise. Her night vision was horrible on a moonlit night, atrocious in anything less than that, and dried contacts scraping against her eyelids certainly weren’t helping the situation in the slightest. With a reluctant sigh she pulled herself back up onto the mattress and leaned off towards the small nightstand keeping sentry alongside of it. Her fingers worked quickly, amazing really how fast muscle memory kicked in after so many years of disuse, and in short order the room was bathed in the soft light of her bedside lamp.

The room was flashing with incandescent light from waist height up; all soft oranges and muted yellows that flickered and shifted with the age of the lonely bulb. Her dresser, short and white and altogether too small to fit anything of use, was splayed an alabaster color and near blinding in the sudden retreat from darkness. Away from her, closer to the door that lead in, her closet’s slatted doors hid imagined terrors beneath its darkness. 

_ -tch _

Again! In a flash she was off of the bed entirely and laying down on hands and knees as she sought to discover whatever it was that kept making that insufferable noise. With breath held tightly she held away the knots and curls that threatened to hold her vision hostage and peered deeper into the darkness held within. 

Nothing.

She _ knew _ she’d heard something that time, it was the same sound she’d heard on loop as a child, the noise she’d always heard right before-

_ THUNK _

“Fuck,” a voice groaned from beneath the cover of the bedframe, the wood echoing and shaking with the force of some unseen impact.

Hermione jumped backwards until her spine was pressed uncomfortably against the looping handles of her dresser drawers, eyes gaping and mouth hanging open in disbelief. Words started and fell apart in the back of her mouth, emotions rocketing all around her skull as she fought to understand what the hell was happening inside this too small room, in this house with too many memories.

“The fuck do you think you’re looking at?” The voice that spoke was all gravel and tar, the timbre rumbling and husky in the same manner it had been when she was still a child. And of course, to top off Hermione’s mountain of a year, it was coming from right in front of her.

Underneath her childhood bed.

“Pet, much as I’m loving our little reunion, I asked you a question that I expect an answer to. Or have you gone deaf in the years since we last spoke?”

\---

Bellatrix Black was, in her own opinion, pissed beyond belief.

_ Fifteen years! _ Fifteen long and excruciating years stuck beneath a three by six box on a quad of half foot frames that smelled of dust and absence more than life or substance. What had once passed for a child's favorite perfumes had long since dissipated into the background miasma of stale air and steadily accumulating dust. The girl had left her here beneath a solid prison wall that wouldn’t lift or budge or move, all alone and darkness everlasting. Yes she _ had _ terrorized the girl, all teeth and claws and hair of moving glass, but surely their odd little interactions had merited more than a sudden disappearance without words or any warning. Instead, she’d been left with a doddering old woman who seemed to only enter the room to observe it, never once bringing back the one she’d been sent to claim.

It was absolutely and totally insulting that a Black need stoop so low as to haunt a child's bedroom in the first place, and it was _ insanity _ that she’d been stuck here all alone. Torture, murder, wholesale slaughter of innocents and trails of destruction had been her hallmark in years long past. She’d been a terror flowing up from darkness to steal souls off the wounded and the dying; now here she was, a glorified pest.

A common ghoul.

Until…

\---

She’d felt more than heard, the soft thumping of air pressure that signaled someone’s entrance into the stillness of the room. It was a rare occurrence that someone would come inside this pitiful space, and from what she remembered the old woman had been here for years, avoiding it all the while.

_ thump-thump-thump _

Feet, booted if she was guessing right, were pacing across the aged wood towards her meager prison cell. When the springs above her space sank down to creak in protest she could hardly believe her luck. Someone was here!

_ On the bed! _

Dark eyes filled with pitch and tar opened wide into the shade-space beneath the bed, her smile broadening out into a toothy grin filled with inhuman daggers and a tongue all black and forked. She licked the air, scented for the one she’d been sent for, tasting something familiar amidst the fetid tang. It was _ her. _ The one she needed, the body, the blood, _ Her! _ She paced within the space she had while hoping beyond all sense that the human above her would remain a while longer, just a little, just enough, and only until the sun set down beneath the horizon. Her fingers scratched at silken scales and talons caught themselves up amid the tangle of her living hair, her body practically thrumming as she waited for night to fall.

One minute, two, and then before long she was pacing and shivering with blood-lust pulling at her senses and mind caught up in turmoil. 

_ Snap _

She felt the lid above her open, coffin door swinging open to allow her exit as the barrier keeping her in place dissolved back into the nothingness that it had come from. Her grin was wide and wicked as she pulled herself up and up and up-

_ THUNK _

\---

_ Hermione Granger had always been on the wrong side of ‘small’ when she was a child. Her growing body, and mind, had been far better suited towards reading old books or spending evenings curled up inside her own head and home. She’d languished behind her extroverted peers, spending hours within her own world as she absorbed stories and information rather than playing with others in a myriad of different games. Ronald had often tried, gods bless his gentle soul, and even poor Harry had made multiple attempts to reach her whenever he wasn’t reeling from the sting of his abusive foster parents belts. Still she had remained absolute in her isolation, comforted and saved by the presence of soft light and unspoken desires; her imagination the canvas for all her different adventures. _

_ Except during the darkness of the night. _

_ Nighttime was its own world, cut off by daylight and oppressive with the absence of her nightlight; her father was resolute that a ten year old shouldn’t need such childish accompaniments, and instead the monsters of her imagination had ruled her thoughts. It waited, baying and writing beneath her eyes, ready to swallow her up whole and pull her down into a pit of nothingness. She was sure of it, more sure than she’d ever been of anything in her life, sure that _ ** _it_ ** _ was making its ascent. _

** _-tch_ **

** _-tch_ **

** _-tch_ **

_ Something was crawling and scrabbling against the hardwood flooring underneath her bed as it tried to peel and pry against the wooden slats supporting her mattress; something long and sinewy that sought her out amid the quietude of her home. She huddled backwards into her headboard to bunch the covers halfway over her face, eyes peering out into the preternatural darkness and tiny heart hammering away within her chest. This particular happening, noises and growls beneath her, had been an ongoing problem for nearly a year now, day in and day out. _

_ And on this day, night if she was being more accurate, her unseen problem became an un-living nightmare. _

_ A shape that was more shade than substance began to crawl and pull its way out from underneath the right side of her bed. The _ ** _thing_ ** _ was scrabbling at the wood as it pulled itself along on chest and stomach, its arms stretched out before itself like some beast stretching after being let out of a cage. Ten long talons of onyx and glass shot out to scrape along the hardwood floor and - _ ** _click click click _ ** _ \- against one another, the creature turning in the same movement until it was laying upon its back. Hermione belatedly realized it was _ ** _her_ ** _ when the creature's hair moved and twirled upon her chest, her stomach and shoulders glistening beneath the thin strip of light falling in through her barely cracked curtains, patterned scales reflecting a honeycomb of depth. _

_ Something crawling and scrabbling against hardwood flooring to peel and pry at the wooden supports beneath the mattress; something long and sinewy that sought her out amid the quietude of the home. This particular happening had been ongoing for nearly a full year before it finally came to a head, until the noise was more than just noise and had become an actual un-living thing. Hermione’s terror grew another ten feet when the creature began chuckling, a low and hollow sound like nails pressing deeply into chalkboard, her palms slickening and eyes widening as- _

_ “Pet,” the creature addressed her in a growl, her limber body pulling itself upwards until her torso was pressed against the bed and legs shrouded underneath the bed frame. Her face brought Hermione’s terror into sharp focus as black eyes with no discernible pupil peered back at her trembling form. Ash gray skin covered her wherever black scales couldn’t reach, her cheekbones and jaw sharp as she held her mouth open to reveal sharply curved teeth that ended in points that looked sharper than a needle, a thick black tongue that forked at the end twisting and licking up her darkly painted lips. Her hair, if it could actually be called that, was a mass of shifting and twisting lengths, like the curls had come alive and formed themselves into malleable daggers with a mind of their own; a nest of snakes made razor sharp. _

_ “...Pet?” The creature leaned forward until they were nose to nose, her body pulled up and practically laying against Hermione as they engaged in an awkward, and terrifying, staring contest. _

_ Hermione promptly fainted, as one might expect of a ten year old, her meager body pushed beyond her limits in light of the horrifying visitor. _

\---

“Y-you’re back,” Hermione spoke in a hushed whisper as she stared at the waking nightmare with awe, and fear, and a healthy dose of nervous apprehension digging its way through her gut, “You’re real…” The logical part of her brain was screaming at her to run, the rest of her resolutely sticking in place through abject fear alone.

The creature raised an eyebrow and sneered at her, “Of course I’m bloody real, you’re real enough, so why wouldn’t I be?” Her face, oddly beautiful even while maddeningly terrifying, was twisting into a quizzical expression that would have seemed more at home on a passerby glaring at some random disturbance, not the visage of Hell itself. Hermione continued staring, her mouth opening and closing as she did so, until her eyes followed the natural curve of her throat and down towards-

_ ‘Oh my,’ _ Hermione thought as she began flushing a bright crimson, mouth letting loose to hang open in shock. The creature - _ woman _ \- was barren of any sort of modesty as she propped herself up on muscled arms, her chest pushed out and writing hair falling back to reveal the curve of her chest.

“I… I, um,” Hermione managed to only stutter while the woman looked back at her with rapidly increasing frustration evident on her face.

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re all grown up now and forgotten poor little Bella, and you don’t even have a brain to show for all those years away. Unless,” she leaned forward until their noses were almost touching, her face scrunched up as she gave a number of inelegant sniffs, “You smell like her… The twits who own this shack didn’t have another daughter, did they?”

Hermione’s face turned another shade of red at the insult to her family, “They weren’t twits, I’ll have you know. And no, I’m an only child. Now who the fuck are you?”

Ashen skin pulled into a shark toothed grin, “Bellatrix Black,” dark eyes roved across Hermione as the woman before her practically preened, “Esteemed daughter of the Seventh Lord of Hell, Demon extraordinaire, Eater of the Dead and Damned.” Her black scales shimmered with iridescence as she shifted beneath the soft light of Hermione’s lamp, body pressed out and open as she showed herself off.

“...I… What?” Hermione’s words failed her as she sat there; stunned into ineptitude by the creature knelt before her and the events leading up to their odd encounter.

“Oh bloody fucking Hell, this would have all been so much easier when you were but a child.”

Hermione’s head tilted in confusion, “So it _ was _ you, beneath my bed? And what exactly are you on about? What would have been easier?” 

“Yes, Pet, it was me and I alone,” Bellatrix rushed out in a huff as she pushed herself forward in a blur of speed until she was on her knees, legs spread, in front of Hermione. Two taloned hands came up to press against the wood at Hermione’s back, boxing her head in and keeping her vision on the nightmare staring her down.

“Well fuck,” Hermione exclaimed, before promptly passing out.

\---

_ ‘Again? Really?’ _ Bellatrix rolled her pitch black eyes at the suddenly boneless woman before leaning backwards against the wood of the bedframe and releasing a pent-up sigh. Of course her charge would manage this; make her wait so very long to see her again and then pass out from all the shock of it. But, then again… What was an hour or two compared with fifteen years? She had the girl, all she needed to do was splash some blood or push her beneath the Veil before the sun rose over the horizon. Surely she could manage that, skilled as she was.

\---

Bellatrix helped herself to an excursion around the empty and silent home while she waited on the girl to come around again. The bedroom she started out in looked the same as it ever had; all muted creams and pastel blues that spoke of innocence and childhood. Against the corner stood a mid height bookshelf painted a plain white color, three shelves that had once been filled with books and magazines now empty and dust covered. Against the other side of the room, beneath the looming window with its dusty curtains, sat a desk with no chair and nothing to sit on top of itself. It was wooden, grainy and barely stained, and though it had once held a small lamp and countless books and assignments, it was empty now; forlorn and looking ancient.

It was all so… sterile, if she was as bold as to call it that. A room that had been lived in but not _ lived _ in.

With a frown she crossed her arms and tapped away at her chin with a sharpened talon, feet spinning her in place as she looked the remnants up and down. Sighing at her charge, body now propped onto the bed with a pillow behind her head, she headed through the doorway and out into the long hallway beyond. She’d never been out here before, she’d only seen it from the small space beneath the bed, but whatever she expected had turned out to be incorrect.

Empty.

A few picture frames hung upon the wall in evenly spaced position; a family of three grinning happily from atop a couch, mother and daughter standing upon a porch with glasses in their hands, a man with sandy hair and chocolate eyes sitting in an easy chair with an infant on his lap. Each and every one was picturesque in its own right, but old all the same. None of the photos showed the girl any older than when she’d left, and the layer of dust sitting atop the frames indicated they hadn’t been moved or touched in quite a long while.

Mostly likely that they hadn’t been moved since she’d first left. 

_ ‘Curious,’ _ thought Bellatrix, trying to wrap her mind around whatever human emotions had led to this languished existence. Only silence met her wonder.

\---

Hermione woke back into the realm of the living with the covers of her bed bunched up around her legs and hands, arms holding onto a soft pillow clutched tightly to her chest, and the overpowering scent of cinnamon and peppermint flooding through her nostrils. Her eyes were grimy and disoriented when she opened them up to view her position, the soft light of the nightstand lamp just a little too much for her tired body to handle. Groaning into the stillness she turned away from the lamp and into-

-Bellatrix; grin manic and dark eyes spiraling as she sat on the side of the bed.

“Y-you’re still here,” Hermione gasped and mumbled while adrenaline shot through her body, mind speeding into double time as she fought to reconcile the last memories she had.

“Of course I am, Pet. We’ve unfinished business to discuss, and I don’t plan on leaving this little hovel without getting my due.” Bellatrix’s voice was calmer than it had been before, no longer jagged or grating but still carrying that distinct huskiness that worked as its own lure.

Hermione pulled herself towards the headboard and sat up until her torso was perpendicular to the bed, “Why though?”

“Well, because that’s the nature of the business,” Bellatriix moved into Hermione’s recently vacated space, looming over her within the half-darkness. “Now, I’ve got questions, and you’ve got answers. Understand, Pet?”

“...” Hermione wasn’t truly sure how to answer that, _ ‘How do I understand a nightmare come to life,’ _ and settled instead for a nod of her head and thinly pursed lips. A _ monster _ that had lived underneath her bed when she was little was asking her questions. And calling her ‘ _ Pet. _’ It beggared belief, unless…

“Cat got your tongue?” Bellatrix startled her with quick movement that forced the aged springs beneath their bodies to squeal and groan in protest; this bed having been made only for one child now overtaxed by the weight of two full-grown women. The creature leaned forward in a predatory fashion, her hands resting on either side of Hermione’s hips as she straddled her waist and made herself comfortable. Hermione could smell cinnamon and peppermint floating up from her ashen skin, when she breathed she could swear the scent of citrus and honey came floating in on her breath. That uncomfortable flush began in earnest again; her chest and throat screaming as the skin turned beet red underneath the woman and the light.

“...What do you want to know?” Her voice was soft but full of conviction, ready to get the show on the road if this was all what she thought it might be.

Bellatrix leaned forward even more until their chests were pressed together and the long writhing strips of Bellatrix’s hair were combing and ghosting atop her skin. Her head leaned in with conspiratorial ease, lips almost touching, “Why’d you leave, Pet? I was so lonely when you left.”

That was… not exactly the question that Hermione had been expecting. “My parents divorced when I was ten years old. My mother managed to keep the house and the license for their Practice, my father got the savings accounts and me.”

Bellatrix’s face twisted into a grimace, “Why’d they go and do a muddy thing like that? And why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

“Um,” Hermione felt a pang of confusion, “I wasn’t aware I was supposed to tell my childhood monsters that I was moving? And they hated each other, near the end. I was just the bargaining chip. And besides, I thought you were a figment of my imagination, why would I have told you anything?”

“You _ were _ convinced I was a waking daydream?” Bellatrix smiled and licked her lips, “So does that mean you’re convinced I’m real now? Or are you still attempting to question things?”

Hermione avoided the black stare and turned to look at her barren wall, “Well I figure there are a few options. One; I’m dead. Two; I’m dying. Three; you’re real.” As her words finished she deeply sighed and turned to look at the popcorn ceiling, “Either of the options is fine by me.”

Bellatrix’s head cocked to the side as she adopted a pithy sneer, her body leaning backwards until she rested upon her heels more so than Hermione’s torso, her body swaying side to side like some unholy snake. “Why’s that, Pet?” Her tone was clipped and jagged, face betraying the confusion at Hermione’s statement.

“Ha,” Hermione darkly chuckled, “Because what’ve I got left to live for? If you’re just going to eat me, go on ahead. I’m perfectly boring, if we talk long enough I’m sure you’d get indigestion.”

“Explain,” Bellatrix growled, suddenly pushing herself forward until Hermione could feel the coolness of her skin through the layer of her own shirt and bra.

“Well where do I begin?”

“Presumably at the beginning, I thought you humans were supposed to be good at this?”

“Hmph,” Hermione grunted before sighing, “Well fine then. My parents were both dentists, meaning they-”

“Yes, yes,” Bellatrix interrupted her with the wave of a hand, “I know what that is. Get on with it.”

“...” Hermione’s head cocked to the side as her gaze narrowed in displeasure, the demoness seeming to realize she made a mistake.

“Fine, fine, I won’t interrupt you. Please, continue.”

Hermione’s gaze opened back up, “As I was saying, they were dentists. They both owned half of a Practice not too far from here and kept the business running since before I’d been born. When the Recession hit, it wiped out any sense of security that they had. Money was tight, and they both leaned into harsh methods to cope with it. Eventually it was enough to erode whatever had been supporting their marriage. Then, before I knew it, divorce was on the table. They were mean back then, and I retreated into books and fantasy to cope with it. I didn’t realize I was being pawned off until my father packed my bags and my mother hugged me goodbye.”

“So then that explains the absence. Now why does this home look like it died twenty years ago?”

Hermione’s voice was thin and quiet as she answered, “Because my mother has been bedridden for five years now, and she finally passed three days ago.”

Bellatrix must have noted the despair that lined her face as she’d spoken, her eyes widening as if she was looking at her for the first time. “How old are you, Pet?” Her voice was calm as she spoke, neither judgemental nor pitying in the aftermath of Hermione’s explanation.

“Twenty five as of last week.”

“...And all that is enough for you to give up?”

“Oh no,” Hermione shook her head and smiled angrily, “There’s much more than that but it’s neither here nor there. I’m ready for you, or whatever stroke or hallucination I’m suffering through, to take me when you will.”

Bellatrix pressed forward even more, enough to cause Hermione’s breath to come in short, as long strands of knife like hair gently wound themselves around her torso and limbs, her wrists pressed down into the mattress and shoulders caressed by the moving blades. “Tell me,” Bellatrix whispered with an underlying hunger, “I _ need _ to know.”

“...Why?” Hermione wasn’t sure if hallucinations were supposed to be as interactive as this; if something had gone seriously wrong in her mind, like she suspected, it _ could _ be possible. But this all felt… too real.

“Because what I need is for you to be sure about where you stand, I’ll tell you everything _ after _ you finish spilling your guts. And,” Hermione felt those black eyes rove across her flesh even with the absence of pupils, “I honestly want to know. I’ve been locked up for years, it’s been far too long since I’ve had decent company. I want to milk this for all it’s worth.” Hermione felt a strange warmth stirring beneath her chest as Bellatrix said all that, some heat and distant want that catered towards her own lack of interaction with anything other than her now missing cat.

“Fine then,” Hermione sniffed and attempted to scoot further back from Bellatrix and into the headboard of the bed, “But don’t say I didn’t warn you. Me. Whatever.”

Bellatrix turned to roll off the side of Hermione’s body until she was laid down alongside her flank, one hand supporting her head while the other toyed with the daggers she claimed as hair. Her gaze was curious, if predatory, and Hermione felt a flush to her face as she turned away and looked towards the end of the bed.

“My father passed away two years ago from a combination of leukemia and cirrhosis. His end was indescribably painful, and he remained a bitter drunk until his last breath,” Hermione sniffed and wiped her arm beneath her eyes, “But he managed to ensure I had more than enough money to put myself through college. Fat lot of good it managed to do in the end though. I was kicked out, four years ago, after being set up-”

“For what?”

“...”

“Fine, fine, I won’t interrupt you. My apologies, Pet.” Bellatrix rolled her blackened eyes and laid a taloned hand upon Hermione’s thigh, long fingers and bladed nails scratching atop the denim fabric.

“As I was saying,” Hermione re-centered herself upon her tale with arms wrapped around herself, “I was made to take the fall for a group of Seniors that had decided the best way to get ahead in class was to steal the master copy of our final exam. Pansy Parkinson, a real bitch if you’ve ever met one, left the copy inside _ my _ purse when the Professor finally realized it was missing. I didn’t have any proof beyond suspicion, and there were no cameras to back me up. All four of her group went against me and said I’d taken it. Since the University had a hard-line stance of cheating, I was booted right then and there. My mother couldn’t handle the stress and disappointment when I told her what happened, she had a stroke…”

Hermione’s voice petered out, hands gripping down with white knuckled fury into the comforter laying beneath her, Bellatrix’s hand moving up to cover her own, “Pet, that’s… harsh.” As the soft grip of her nightmare worked against her own aching flesh, Hermione gently released the fabric and let out a biting sigh containing most, if not all, of her weariness.

“Yeah, well… That’s life for you. Everything sucks, and then you die.”

“Surely that’s not all it’s taking for you though? To decide you want to move on? You must have something outside of this room, right?”

Hermione was sure her irritated scowl was enough of an answer but figured that humoring her questions was alright if she was dead or dying regardless.

“I managed to get a job flipping burgers in the less than savory section of town where I lived. Turns out ‘framed for cheating and stealing’ doesn’t get you very far in life. I was a cashier; the most esteemed post graduate position, all before I’d even managed to graduate. I ended up losing that job last week thanks to a coworker who tried to frame me from skimming out the cash drawer. My boss was kind enough to review the footage but let me go anyways, company policy or some shit. So; no school, no job, no family. One would think three strikes was enough…”

“And I’m sure in most cases it usually would be enough. But, for the sake of argument, let's say I operate just a bit differently from average heart attack,” Bellatrix tightened her grip upon Hermione’s hand and forced her to look her in the eyes, “And you’re much older than I’d initially wanted for this, so there are _ rules _ now that didn’t apply back then.”

“Rules? Like what?”

\---

“Well-”

“Actually,” the girl indignantly interrupted her, “Why are you even in here? With me, I mean. If you’re some daughter to a Lord of Hell, wouldn’t you have better things to do than listen to my mopey tales? Why haunt a child’s bedroom in the first place?”

Bellatrix sighed and pushed her face down against the soft abdomen in front of her, breath and voice muffled by cloth and warm flesh that stiffened and grew taut under her touch, “That’s a hard thing to say.”

“Well, we’ve got all night. And I just finished spilling my guts to you,” Hermione’s soft voice rumbled and moved Bellatrix’s head as she breathed, “So try me.”

Bellatrix pushed herself forward until she was laying atop the woman, “Fine,” her body practically sucking up the warmth provided by the girl, “As I said, I’m the eldest to a Lord of Hell. Not _ the _ Lord of Hell, that title falls to a being known as Voldemort; the right hand of Satan himself. Now, when I was a younger Demoness,” Bellatrix relaxed her grip and snuggled into the warmth and softness underneath her, “I was a hothead. I was given the option to apprentice directly beneath Voldemort himself, but I was too stubborn to accept it. Cocksure and hardheaded, I refused him. I couldn’t see myself following anyone, I was meant to _ lead.” _

“That doesn’t sound too bad-”

“Pet,” Bellatrix’s voice turned into a growl, “Interruptions, remember?”

“... Right, sorry.”

“As I was saying, I snubbed his offer and the followup offer to marry another burgeoning Lord; Rodolphus Lestrange, a human turned shade, turned demon. He was a nice enough fellow, all blood and guts and creepy French accents, but we both agreed that settling down together wasn’t in the cards. Not that our families saw it that way. His words, and mine by extension, meant little. In the end we were both cast out with similar punishments.” She paused there, ready to give her little misanthropic human a chance for a question or two.

“... So as punishment you were sent to do what, scare me to death?”

“No, Pet,” Bellatrix placed a taloned hand upon the side of the woman’s body, squeezing gently, “I was sent to kill you to return, or win your soul and servitude if I could.”

“Well that’s rather candid of you to admit; most people just break my heart without bothering to tell me they’re going to do it.”

“I’ve had fifteen years to rot beneath your bed,” Bellatrix grimly laughed, “I’m not in the mood for patience or tricks.”

Hermione pushed herself forward, forcing Bellatrix to sit back and once again straddle her hips, her chin resting atop a shoulder and nose buried in brown curls that smelled of lavender. Her own hair had a mind of its own, wrapping all around Hermione’s chest and back, long tendrils sneaking beneath the cover of her shirt to press against warm skin and soothe muscles with a pulsing rhythm.

“... Pet?” Bellatrix husked her question out, voice confused and mind waiting.

“If you’re going to kill me then I’d rather go out comfortable. If you’re a hallucination then I’ve nothing to fear.”

“Hmm,” Bellatrix hummed in amused fascination, “Well, that’s the _ why _ I’m here. But as to why I’m _ still _ here, it’s part of the punishment. There are monsters, ghouls really, all over the world. All were formerly demons or demoness’, charged with harvesting either fear or meat, or a body if they can swing it.”

“Meaning what? You’d have killed me when I was little?”

“Yes,” Bellatrix answered readily, arms wrapping around Hermione’s body in a hug before squeezing tightly, “That, or dragged you down to my world.”

“What would have happened to me if you brought me down there?” Hermione’s voice was soft and tired, weariness evident in her words.

“You would have become a Demoness; claimed under my blood and protection as a vassal to do with as I please. Which,” she pressed lips against the woman’s neck, “You can still do. If you don’t want that, however, I’ll spill your blood across the Veil so that I can return home.”

“Is that why you need my consent? The going with you part, not the killing part.”

“Yes. A soul cannot cross the Veil unless they truly _ want _ to cross. That’s why it’s so much easier when you’re a child; just tell them there’s a toy they lost, or a loved one waiting, whatever you can do to get them to agree to hop across the other side. Easy as can be.”

“But I ended up leaving…”

“Yes,” Bellatrix’s voice gained an edge it had heretofore lacked, “And you ended up leaving me beneath this shit heap to rot.” She could feel the way that Hermione tensed within her grasp, her voice radiating anger and malcontent, but still the woman showed no other sign of fear or fright.

“Well I’m sorry that the implosion of my family life ended up having such a negative impact on your un-life.”

“As you well should be, Pet.” Bellatrix took that moment, that space after her apology and her acceptance, to test just how far she could push the little human. She pressed soft lips against the curve of Hermione’s neck, that hollow space where shoulder met throat, her breath ghosting across warm skin and practically beaming at the warmed shiver that Hermione released. Ever so slowly she poked her forked tongue out from between her lips and began to lave a trail of wetness from bone to bone, up and over the curve of her throat until she could nip and bite at the soft edges of her chin.

“So now what,” the body beneath her gruffed out, fingers finding purchase along Bellatrix’s side and nails skating across the rivulets of blackened scale that covered her torso, “What happens from here?”

“I take you over to the other side, or I kill you. Whichever you prefer, though I am partial to taking you willingly.”

“Well, as much as I’d love to take you up on on the second option, I think the first would be more to my liking.”

Bellatrix lifted her head to nip sharply on an earlobe, “Why’s that, Pet?” 

“Because as much as you scared me back then, and earlier tonight, I’m not quite ready to join my family.”

\---

In the end that was really all that mattered to Hermione. If this was a dream, a hallucination cooked up by her slowly frying brain, then it didn’t matter what she chose. No one lived in this house; no one visited or dropped off mail directly, no one but she herself even knew she was staying here. If she passed out on the floor while bleeding out from her cranium, she was as good as dead. In that case, why not choose the more interesting of two hallucinations?

And in the off chance that this was real? That a monster from hell in the guise of a beautiful, if terrifying, woman had climbed up from beneath her bed to drag her down below? Well, the escape from a life of lost family, crushing debt, and no future prospects was certainly worth the leap. No one could fault her for choosing something _ different, _ something that was so against the grain that it would alienate her from humanity.

“So you can’t return unless I’m dead, or with you,” Hermione spoke and waited for Bellatrix to acknowledge her words, “And I’m either already dying, or about to wave goodbye to my rather pitiable existence. Take me,” Hermione leaned forward into Bellatrix’s chest, “I hate this room.”

“Never was my choice of decor either,” Bellatrix replied, her voice light while her face broke into an unusually sharp toothed grin that radiated happiness.

“So,” Hermione pushed the woman off of her lap, “What exactly happens when I cross over with you?”

“You’ll be marked as mine, little human, a Demoness in full once the sun reaches its zenith here. No going back to normalcy whatsoever. I can’t tell you what you’ll look like, you may turn out to be the same as me, or something far different. The denizens of Hell are a multitude of shapes and colors.”

“Alright then,” Hermione nodded, “Shall we?”

\---

Squeezing underneath the short height of the bedframe was difficult enough now that she was older, made even more so by Bellatrix’s insistence that she disrobe first.

“Come on Pet,” Bellatrix had growled and ran taloned fingers down her spine, splitting the soft fabric down the length as she went, “Nothing human passes underneath the Veil, it’ll all fall off either way. Doing it now,” she pressed a palm against Hermione’s shivering torso, “Just gives me something pretty to look at.”

She’d huffed and put up the barest pretense of indignation before acknowledging Bellatrix’s words and pulling off her ruined shirt and bra, the material ending up in a heap of cloth that was soon joined by her knickers and pants. The cool air of the room was nothing compared to the chill of Bellatrix’s scales when she stood up behind her and pressed her front against Hermione’s back, the warm and pebbly texture of nipples, a hand splayed out across her stomach while talons dug red lines against the paleness of her skin, it was….

_ ‘Good,’ _ thought Hermione, luxuriating in the madness she found herself in. She’d always know what she’d liked, had known when she was little and later confirmed with a failed relationship to her dorm mate Viktor, but the element of something _ forbidden _ was relaxing her inhibitions as Bellatrix worked as relaxing her beating heart.

And then she’d found herself roughly shoved at the space beneath her bed until with a soft tumble her weight shifted, hair flying all around, as she dropped into a miniature space directly beneath where she’d once slept. It was dark all around her with only a slim glimmer of light coming in off the space above her head, her little lamp doing all it could to give her something to hold onto. Bellatrix was faster in her descent, having done this who knew how many times, and swiftly joined her with a cackling laugh of delight and hands grabbing at Hermione’s wrists.

“You’ve no idea how happy this makes me, Pet,” Bellatrix leaned in until their naked torso’s were pressed tightly together, “I’ve waited for this for _ years _ and now it’s finally here.”

Hermione couldn’t do anything other than nod, not sure how to reply and unsure if a reaction was even warranted. Her mind, while not having second thoughts, was still trying to catch up with the insane situation she found herself in, and drowning now beneath the body pressed so close to her own. Boldness, at least in theory, could be rewarded; if this was a madness she could make it her own, and when the Demoness stopped speaking and waited for an answer, she leaned forward in as much of one as she could muster.

Bellatrix’s lips tasted of oranges and dirt, something heady and foreign as she captured her bottom lip and chewed gently at the cold flesh. Her movements were insistent as heat built up between her thighs and something heavy settled within her abdomen; a want, a need, propelling her to thrust a tongue into that dangerous maw.

It was Heaven, _ ‘Or Hell,’ _ she thought darkly to herself, as Bellatrix accepted that warm appendage and began moving her across the small space. Soon her back was pressed against something warm, soft, almost like fabric but almost pulsing with waves of heat into her back. Bellatrix released the hold their mouths had on one another, her grin barely visible in the twilight of the hole.

“Do you consent,” she asked, “Do you wish to join me down below?”

Hermione stood there and stared, mind processing the evening, ready for her brain to pop, or doctors to talk, something or anything to pull her away from this decision.

Nothing came.

_ “Yes.” _

**Author's Note:**

> Like Bellamione? https://discord.gg/pcfMU4F come on in and join the server!


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